


Trial and Error

by Sinvolcano



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Attempted Seduction, BAMF John Watson, Background Case, Bottom Sherlock, Bottom Sherlock Holmes, Caught, Embarrassment, Established Relationship, Fingering, Handcuffs, Idiots in Love, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Sex, Seduction, Sex, Smut, Teasing, Top John, idk lmao, lots of teasing, maybe plot later, no like sex or anything just like teasing in public, nothing too bad, public i guess?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-04
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-15 06:20:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29184669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sinvolcano/pseuds/Sinvolcano
Summary: Sherlock wants to get John’s submissive side out. Like an experiment it is a game of trial and error, however what he was not anticipating was how much of a challenge John Watson would be.aka trynna make John beg
Relationships: Johnlock, Sherlock Holmes & John Watson, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 12
Kudos: 77





	Trial and Error

**Author's Note:**

> I don’t have proof readers or anything so you’ll just have to bare with me if theres any mistakes. Feel free to comment any biggies so i can fix them. Went through this on grammarly, so i think its alright. But its also pretty late and my brain has shut off lmao

Reaching out to wrap his arm around John, he’s startled in his half-asleep state to find the bed empty. His arm falling onto the mattress, he lifts his head slightly and gazes at the alarm clock, which reads 10:32 am.  
He huffs at the realization that John has already left to work, tossing onto his stomach and rubbing his face into the pillow. As he becomes more lucid he hears the sound of rustling in the kitchen, smiling to himself as he realizes it’s Tuesday, when John's shift doesn't begin till noon. He contemplates calling John into the room and forcing him back under the covers, but his thoughts quickly wander. It's not often he sleeps in so late, but after a long night chasing criminals, and John taking him apart in some post-case sex, he's constantly finding himself sleeping longer than ever before. The sound of the kettle makes him crave the taste of tea on his tongue, finally giving him the strength to part from the warmth of the bed, and into the heat of the shower.  
Not much has changed since the unexpected turn of events with John -for the better, he might add- the only thing that they do now different from before is kiss and touch a lot more often, snuggle up to each other when in the living room, and of course the snogging and screwing up and down the house. John has always been the take-charge type and he was not surprised to find he continued that tradition into the bedroom, however as the steam filled the shower and the water dripped down Sherlock's skin, he couldn't help but wonder how he could get John into the begging mess he so often makes of Sherlock. A smile grew on his face as the pieces fell into place. He stepped out of the shower and dried himself off before pulling on his robe and tieing it loosely.

Attempt #1  
John stood in front of the stove frying himself breakfast, already having set a plate of eggs and toast for Sherlock on the table, with a steaming cup of tea accompanying it. Sherlock ran a thumb along the vial he had clasped in his hand and made his way next to John, leaning back on the counter, his buttocks holding his weight.  
''I'm busy Sherlock, I have to leave for work in a half-hour'' John spoke, not even glancing over at Sherlock as he poked his eggs.  
''That sounds like quite enough time for what I have planned, John''  
Finally, John met his gaze and he almost wishes he hadn't. Sherlock was leaned back eloquently, his robe loose and open enough to show a fair amount of his still damp torso, the sleeve hanging off his left shoulder in a precisely seductive manner John can only assume was done deliberately. John swallowed hard and turned his attention back to the stove, unwilling to show any weakness in a situation where he is no doubt the prey.  
John convinces himself if he can simply finish cooking he can escape this situation and make it to work with time to spare, but another glance shows Sherlock no longer looking at him. Sherlock’s lips slightly parted and his eyes shut, he shows off his neck in an animalistic display of submission. He reaches down his robes and unties it with a quick pull, leaving his naked body out for display. John, a most sensible man, shuts the stove off and attempts to gain control of his facilities, but Sherlock has other plans, as he grabs John’s hand and pours lube onto his middle and index fingers, then pulls the hand underneath him. John sighs and massages his fingers against Sherlock’s entrance, not giving his full attention, still entertaining the possibility he can get out of this situation as he denies either task his full attention: his left hand beginning to probe into Sherlock, and his cock twitching with each moan that he releases, or the act of taking the frying pan off the burner. Finally coming to terms when he realizes he needs both hands to make the rest of his plate, he sighs and turns his full attention to Sherlock. Sherlock smiles as John moved between his legs, and John quickly wipes it off his face with his fingers curling against Sherlock’s prostate. “John” He moans. John stills his hand and takes in the scent and sight of Sherlock, who is now rolling his hips onto the fingers. John knowing he has no time to waste, savours the kiss he puts on Sherlock’s lips then quickly removes his fingers to Sherlock’s dismay.  
Sherlock wanted to keep John on edge, keep making him finger fuck his ass until he was begging to put his prick inside, instead he found himself unable to argue as John sprung free his cock without another word, lubed it and pressed it to Sherlock’s ass. The second it took for John to enter Sherlock any plans he had went out the door, and suddenly all he could do once again was beg and plead for John to not stop, to fuck him harder. John was unrelenting, fucking hard and fast, and all Sherlock could do was hold on for dear life, arms flailing to the counter, knocking things over in an attempt to find something to hold onto. As John’s hands came to Sherlock’s bottom, lifting him higher and pulling Sherlock’s hips up and down in rhythm with his unforgiving pace, Sherlock wrapped his legs around Johns behind tightly, urging him in harder, deeper.  
John has always been a rough lover, once warning Sherlock when they first became an item that he believed he would have an extremely hard time holding back with Sherlock, insisting on making a safe word before their second sexual encounter even, worrying on Sherlock’s behalf as he noticed the bruises and trails of dug in nails he left over Sherlock’s body. Sherlock must admit though, he is a bit caught off guard by how hard John can go despite it only being 11 in the morning. He smiles and throws his head back as John grabs hold of his cock and starts stroking it along with his thrusts.  
“Beautiful—come for me” John speaks softly, but with the sultry of his voice it would be stupid to think of it as anything but the command it is, and if he is lucky, ah- there it is  
John’s grasp tightens on his cock and his angle adjusts to hit Sherlock’s prostate more directly. Sherlock moans.  
“Come for me darling” There it is, still demanding as ever but with a deep pleading tone to it, one of the few pleas Sherlock can get out of him. It sends him over the edge, he grabs hold of the back of John’s neck and shoves his face into his shoulder, moaning and chanting John’s name. He spills onto his stomach and John releases hold of his cock, bringing his hand to his mouth and licking the semen on his palm. Sherlock leans back, head hitting the cupboard, still throbbing and coming down from his orgasm. John’s movements slow but he still rocks in and out, pulling every bit of pleasure he can from Sherlock.  
As he regains control of his breathing Sherlock intertwines his fingers behind John’s neck and kisses him passionately, still, and always craving his taste. John takes his queue and begins picking up the pace once again, not aiming directly for Sherlock’s sweet spot as not to cause too much overstimulation. John groans and kisses along Sherlock’s face, down his neck and nibbling at the skin.  
“Beautiful— Ngh— you feel so fucking good, love” John moans, chasing his orgasm.

“Yuu-Hooo!”

Sherlock tenses and meets John’s gaze.

“Boys!” Ms. Hudson’s steps growing closer, John slows his movement to not so skin slapping hard but does not halt.  
Sherlock opens his mouth to protest but John simply reaches and covers it with his palm.  
“Not a good time Ms. Hudson!” John yells in an ever so polite manner considering the circumstances Sherlock muses.

“What?” She stops not more than a few steps from the threshold, a brief silence and Sherlock can almost hear the realization go off in her head. “It’s not even noon yet! A bit too soon to be going at it like a couple of animals!” She huffs and turns to go back down

“Thank you, Ms. Hudson!” John responds the same, the sarcasm there, but barely present in his voice. Another huff and her steps echo down the staircase. John slowly removes his hand from Sherlock’s mouth and smiles as he catches Sherlock’s gaze. Blush that was creeping from the sudden interruption has now fully engulfed his pale complexion. Sherlock had quickly come to the conclusion and not pondered too much on the fact that Ms. Hudson would most likely catch them in the act at one point or another, it was simply a matter of fact giving their living arrangements. He realized this when John and him first got together and quickly moved past it. What caused the true embarrassment was the fact that It did not stop John from continuing their.. recreations.  
“Shy now are we?” John grinned and picked up the pace once more. Sherlock’s heart is leaping from his chest and smothers himself against and around John as shielding to his embarrassment. He tries to stifle his moans in John’s collar but as John’s release approaches and his thrusts intensify he can’t help the cries of pleasure that erupt from him every time John’s cock rams inside. A few more thrusts and John is tugging at Sherlock’s hair and kissing him fiercely, fucking deeper and becoming manic while his orgasm takes over. He comes inside Sherlock and moans turn into heavy panting as his movement slows. Johns’s hands both reclaim Sherlock’s hips, with a softer grasp, massaging into them in time with his final thrusts.  
Finally, when they both feel their muscles can no longer take their position any longer, John slips out and lowers Sherlock’s feet back down to the floor. Standing upright and panting, mouths a few inches apart, Sherlock finally opens his eyes and pulls John down for tender kisses.

The haze of his orgasm now almost completely gone, Sherlock bites his lip realizing he didn’t succeed in his plan to make John the writhing mess he wanted, and begins to formulate a second attempt.

Attempt #2

A few days have gone by since the kitchen fiasco, and they could not have gone by better Sherlock thinks. They have been preoccupied with a case for the past two days and have not had the time nor the energy to have sex. John often needing regular sexual release, is most likely getting pent up, and Sherlock is happy to exploit that.  
The only thing is that giving their recent preoccupation, Sherlock hasn’t had the time or inclination to begin formulating a plan until now. So as he lays on the sofa, hands together in front of his face, he stares at the ceiling contemplating how he should go about his second attempt to elicit a more submissive side of John. Deep in thought he never hears the shower turn off or the bathroom door being opened, only becoming aware of Johns, presence -his shirtless presence, god, can’t help but stare- when he lifts Sherlock’s legs and plops down on the couch settling them back over top his lap. Sherlock quickly becomes aware of one detrimental fact that will make his planning all the more difficult: once he is aroused and John is atop him, fingering him, touching him, he does not think he can muster up the willpower to deny being breached by Johns lovely cock. And to succeed in reducing John to a begging, whimpering mess as has been taunting his dreams lately, he’ll have to be able to show some restraint. And with John’s hand rubbing up and down the skin of his leg as he reads his book, the task is starting to seem ever more daunting.

“Tea?!” Sherlock leaps from his place on the couch, fixed on keeping away from sexual activities until he has finished formulating his plan. This earns an amused glance and smile from John  
“Jumpy today?” John rests his book on his lap  
“Not at all! What would make you think that!” Sherlock almost yells as he yanks the cupboards open rifling through the shelves, knocking things out of place in an overly manic matter. John simply smiles wider “Tea sounds lovely” leaving Sherlock to his antics he resumes his novel where he left off.

The second time did not go as planned any better than the first. He decided perhaps he needed a more subtle approach as opposed to his previous straight-to it-ness of his first attempt. He simply began with soft caresses. It was a normal day, John accompanied him to a crime scene, what was different was that every chance Sherlock got, he’d show off a bit of skin, bend over in a favouring way, and trace any part of John’s body in his immediate reach.  
By the time they were in Greg’s office at the end of the day, it was much less subtle however. Sitting in the chairs opposing Greg’s desk, Sherlock was running his hand up and down John’s thigh, giving a gentle squeeze here and there. John, whose pants have been uncomfortably tight almost all day as only Sherlock would notice, was doing quite well at keeping his composure as he spoke to Greg, that is until Lestrade turned to grab some papers, at that moment Sherlock seized his chance and ran his hand along John’s groin. Earning a gasp of disbelief. Sherlock quickly removed his hand as Greg turned back, and John only nodded and gave his reassurance nothing was amiss.  
For them, both Greg’s dismissal couldn’t have come quick enough. They practically bolted out of the building and tumbled into the back of the cab. John was quick to pounce on Sherlock, either unaware or more likely uncaring of the taxi driver a foot away. He kissed Sherlock like he was a man drowning desperate for a breath of air. Sherlock’s pride of the events blinding his vision as he daringly grabbed hold of John’s bulge once more. And that was it. His smug pride in having gotten this far all crumbled to pieces, he saw the shift in John’s eyes, that went from playful pleading to demanding and focused. Sherlock swallowed at his change in demeanour still holding onto the hope he could salvage the situation. John settled back into his seat staring out the window, and Sherlock almost wished they hadn’t arrived at Baker street so soon, maybe just one more trip around the block and he could get John in that desperate state once more. But no. John strode from the cab and up the stairs to 221B Baker street. Sherlock followed swiftly, uncertain of what awaited.

All hope of a pleading Watson was squashed when the apartment door shut. John was on him, John had a plan and he’d carry it out no matter what Sherlock attempted. The arousal and the desperation of being teased all day has instead set off an animalistic beast, taking Sherlock and throwing him onto the bed, stripping too kind a word as what John did was more akin to ripping him of his clothes. Then John was on him, in him, and if John was unforgiving before, he was deadly the way he fucked Sherlock now.

Not that Sherlock’s complaining, he’ll take a sore ass any day if it means being the instrument for John to play with. To be taken apart and put back together again, all by the caress, the ministrations, the whim of the man he loves. Nothing turns him on more than seeing John let go, having John claiming him and doing everything in his power to come and make Sherlock come screaming his name. The sex is incredible, makes him wonder if he’d be able to even get himself off after having such powerful orgasms as he does with John. Nothing compares, but Sherlock isn’t one to back down from a challenge. And one thing he’s wanted from the moment he’s laid eyes on John was to strip him down to the core of his being, see everything that makes John tick. Now, it has evolved, now he wants to touch everything, feel everything, experience everything John has to offer, and he wants to draw it out of him. If he talked about this with John, he would most likely laugh and make a sarcastic comment about how greedy Sherlock is. But it would only be half-hearted, Sherlock can see in John’s eyes, in his movements and his ragged breaths how much John craved him as well. Given the opportunity, he’s certain John would take the chance to find a new level to Sherlock, and that’s all Sherlock is trying to do really.

Naked and sprawled out in bed at only 5 pm on a Monday, John snoring ever so lightly, and then the occasional roar. Sherlock sighs and contemplates simply asking John for what he wants. But a voice inside quickly shuts the idea down, saying:  
“that wouldn’t be as much fun. Are you really going to coward out now?”  
Sherlock smiled and nuzzles into the crook of John’s neck. Draping the blanket over them.

One more  
I’ll try one more time

Attempt #3

It dawned on him on a regular day, nothing spectacular or out of the ordinary happened, he simply was trying to detain suspect -at a disadvantage, he’d admit. Staring down the barrel of a gun undoubtedly limits one’s options- when John charged in, tackling the gunner to the ground, and bringing his hands behind his back.  
“You’re a bloody moron you know that!” John was spitting his frustration in Sherlock’s direction, but it was of no concern, neither was this criminal he caught. No what did catch Sherlock’s eye were the handcuffs as John clicked them into place. The way the man squirmed and tried to resist but was completely immobilized. Sherlock couldn’t help the grin spreading across his face.  
“What are you smiling about?” Lestrade snapped him out of his trance and he quickly regained his composure  
“I caught you your suspect didn’t I?” Sherlock retorted. Greg only rolled his eyes.  
Sherlock strode towards Lestrade placing his hand on the man’s shoulder  
“I told you it would only be a matter of waiting to see who took the bait”  
“So you’ve said..” Greg huffed.  
As John and Sherlock stand on the boulevard hailing a cab, Sherlock can’t help but play with the metal chain of the handcuffs he pickpocketed from Lestrade, secretly stashing them in his coat. He smiles to himself and John eyes him suspiciously, “What are you up to Holmes?”  
Sherlock opens the cab door and gestured for John to step inside  
“Haven’t the slightest what you are talking about” He grinned.

Sherlock sat on his chair, leg crossed over the other, hands together and staring at nothing in particular. John hummed softly as he made his way through the kitchen, preparing dinner no doubt. Sherlock wasn’t particularly hungry.  
John thought about commenting on Sherlock’s far-off demeanour but stopped himself knowing this isn’t exactly unusual for Sherlock. He couldn’t shake the feeling though this time was different.  
Sherlock barely ate any of the food he was given, poking at it with his fork on his plate like a child disinterested in their mother’s cooking. John encouraged him to at least have some, but Sherlock didn’t even spare a glance in his direction. Too focused, too intent. He knows it will work this time.  
John finished cleaning the last of the dishes and wiped his hands on the towel hanging nearby. When he turned Sherlock was hardly a foot away glaring down at him  
“God! Sherlock! Are you trying to give me a heart attack!?” John jumped, but when no answer came he began to grow worried. He reached up and took Sherlock’s cheek in his hand, Sherlock gave an appreciative hum and pressed into the contact, closing his eyes.  
“Are you alright, love?” John’s voice was soft and sincere, Sherlock’s eyes snapped open and he grasped John by the shoulders pulling him in for a kiss. John yelped in surprise but quickly melted into his embrace, chuckling softly against the taller man’s lips. Sherlock broke away the contact receiving a disapproving sigh from John.  
“Bed” Sherlock demanded, John only smiled and quirked a brow, brushing past Sherlock and proceeding as commanded.  
Sherlock shut the door behind them as John took a seat on the edge of the bed.  
“No. Stand” John raised himself with a questioning look but said nothing.

“Do you trust me, Watson?” Sherlock mused. Of course, he knew the answer already.

“With my life” John’s smile grew into a grin. “What is it exactly you have planned?” He spoke coyly, reaching out for the seam of Sherlock’s shirt, but his hand is quickly swatted away. John pulled back confused, obviously doubting whether or not Sherlock had brought him in here for what he thought.  
“Remove your clothes” Sherlock offered and John halted for a brief moment before conceding. John’s body was lean and muscular, scarred here and there with small deposits of hair on his chest and down his belly to his groin. The urge to step forward and lick him from head to toe was knawing in Sherlock’s mind, he found it took quite an inner war to regain control, however that only seemed like a few silent lustful moments to John’s eyes. Pulling off his trousers and pants, his cock sprang free, eager to meet the events unfolding. Sherlock stared at his naked frame as John stepped free of his socks, his cock looking so delicious and he had to bite back a groan at the memory of it sliding on his tongue. He cleared his throat softly and took a step towards John, lightly tracing a finger over the man’s collarbone, once again fighting to keep control. “Lay down” Sherlock meant for it to come out as a command, but it sounded more like a murmured plea. John listened nonetheless, scooting up to the center of the bed and positioning his head comfortably on top of the pillows. The room felt too hot, and Sherlock shed of his own shirt, but stayed standing, taking in all of John’s naked form.  
“Do-” He cleared his throat once more as his voice came out strangely, standing up straighter and walking to the foot of the bed. “Do you remember our safe word?” He asked, keeping John’s eyes locked in his.  
“Um, yea it’s stop or a pinch if you can’t talk” John smiled briefly, his expression giving the “obviously” in his voice much more dramatism.  
“Good. We’ve discussed things like this in the past, so I know it’s not out of your comfort zone, however, if you want to stop just let me know, understood?” Sherlock went to his bedside table, opening the drawer.  
“Yes sir” John said jokingly, obviously a bit out of his element with the reverse in roles being presented to him here.  
With a quick movement Sherlock reached over John’s head and clasped the handcuffs on one wrist, and before John could get out a word, put it through the headboard and out again, clasping John’s other wrist, and effectively leaving his hands immobilized.  
“Are these my handcuffs?” John struggled lightly against them trying to get a look at his current situation.  
“Of course not, these are Lestrade’s”  
Sherlock stood from the bed once more and didn’t even bother answering John’s questions of how, and why etc. He was too entranced with John. John’s body, sprawled out before him and now subject to his whim. John’s feet kicked back and forth as he tossed around, making Sherlock curse he hadn’t thought to grab a second pair. John’s forgotten about on the wrists of their latest arrest, he’ll make due though.  
He begins by rubbing up and down John’s legs, massaging his body up and down, taking in the sighs of contentment and the relaxation that engulfs John’s muscles. He sits on John’s thighs, the fabric of his pyjama bottoms a barrier between skin, and placement on his body purposeful, to refuse John the relief of bucking up into him. John’s eyes found Sherlock once more as he stopped his massaging and his intent became more erotic. A gasp escaped John’s lips as his hands rubbed over his chest, thumbs dragging behind and circling his nipples. He bends forward and licks lightly over one, then the other, simultaneously moving his hands slowly down John’s sides, stopping at his hips. He places kisses and licks on John’s neck as his thumb rubs circles where John’s thighs and hips meet. Slowly creeping into the seems of his legs, inching ever closer to his groin. When his thumbs touched under John’s bullocks he increased his pressure, massaging into his thighs and upwards into the crook between his thighs and groin. Cupping John’s balls and cock, he rubbed deeply and slowly into the skin, eliciting sighs and moans of light pleasure from John’s mouth. His thumbs probe lightly into his perineum, and John spreads his legs wider, rolling his hips in an attempt to form a rhythm with the gentle massage. As Sherlock’s grip tightened and John’s cock began to beg for direct stimulation, he slowly pulled away, rubbing down his inner thighs, and revelling in the desperate sigh that John huffed.  
Bending down again, he kissed John ever softly, small open mouth kisses, despite John’s wordless pleas for deeper, harder ones. Sherlock smiled and kissed down John’s jaw and neck, breathing in his scent before moving downward. Sherlock’s hands gripped and released John’s spread thighs in a deep massage, as he kissed down his body he slipped his arms under John’s thighs, propping himself slightly on his elbows, and holding John in place. He kissed from knee to crease, one leg than the other. Before licking a stripe up John’s crack. John shivered and pressed down into the feeling, but his mouth left just as quickly as it got there.  
He repeated his action, then changed it, kissing randomly, licking up the crease of his thigh and ass but never touching his balls or cock directly. John was growing desperate, throwing his head around and letting high wordless pleas erupt from his throat. He pulled on his binding, trying to push himself down harder into every point of contact Sherlock would allow him, but in every millimetre John thought he gained, Sherlock would pull back just as much. Sherlock’s hands left their places holding the tops of John’s thighs, and instead crept up his body and began rubbing up and down John’s abdomen once again. The added contact a short-lived relief to John, as Sherlock stopped his rubbing every time John tried to rock his hips and instead held him tightly in place.  
“Sher- Sherlock” His heart skipped a beat, the first plea. He couldn’t catalogue it fast enough. He licked next to John’s balls, ever so slightly meeting the base of John’s cock. Usually not the most sensitive place, now sent electricity surging through John, his back arched and he used all the strength he could muster to regain the feeling, chasing Sherlock’s tongue to no avail.  
“Sherlock! God!” John’s frustration plain as he threw his head back into the pillows and grunted his need. Sherlock decided it was time to move things along a bit, licked at John’s perineum, holding John’s hips still. He sucked and licked up John’s balls, before taking one in his mouth than the other. Still, it gave John no relief, only egged on his pounding erection and sent drops of precum out the tip and onto his belly.  
“Christ Sherlock fuck me” John managed

“I thought you didn’t like bottoming?” Sherlock smiled, nuzzling his chin near John’s length. 

“I don’t care!- FUCK!” Sherlock licked up John’s cock, placing a kiss on the tip

“You were saying?” Sherlock hummed, never taking his eyes off John’s face.

“God- inside me, inside you, in your mouth! I don’t care just- please!” John sobbed, trying desperately to fight off Sherlock’s tight hold on his hips.

“As amusing as that would be, I have my own plans, thank you” John met Sherlock’s gaze, lifting his head and throwing it back down as his tongue found his length again.  
To John it felt like an eternity, Sherlock slowly licking from base to tip, flicking his tongue over the precum that formed every now and then, and sucking gently on the head when John’s pleas grew. Finally, he flattened his tongue and licked one final stripe up his cock before taking it all the way down, he tried his best to reach the base but his throat wouldn’t give, so he settled for an inch off. He went down slowly, taking in every noise and flavour John produced. And came up even slower, John’s not even sure how it’s possible to go so torturously slow while sucking around him so damn sweet and hard.  
One more suck upwards and John was there, eyes shot open and breath hitching. But they weren’t done yet. Sherlock grasped hold of the base of his cock hard and popped his lips off. Wiping the saliva from his chin with his other hand. Sitting back on his knees, holding tight on John’s cock, he took a moment to admire the mess he’s made of his lover. Breathing heavy and sweat coated. Murmuring Sherlock’s name and pleading for his release. Gradually, he releases his hold on John’s cock, and begins rubbing his inner thighs again.  
“You’re so beautiful like this John” Sherlock hums, John presses his ass down again seeking some sort of friction, and Sherlock allows him this once.  
Waiting for John to calm down enough to continue, Sherlock’s own throbbing member becomes apparent. Gracelessly removing his trousers and underwear, he grabs hold of his own cock as it begs for some sort of relief, and feels the coating from all the precum he’s been leaking throughout. A few strokes and he could come right there, covering John’s gorgeous figure. He halts his hand and grunts, body begging for more.  
John’s wrists cuffed above his head look so lovely, his hands in fists, in sync with the rest of his tensed, lustful body. Arms looking thick and muscular as he flexes them subconsciously.  
“Please” John stutters, catching his breath and catching Sherlock’s gaze.  
“Please touch me Sherlock, please make me come. I need it. Please I need you” John’s begging goes straight to Sherlock’s cock, and he feels the same way. He ponders for a moment as he kisses and nuzzles John’s neck how far he could go, how long they could. Sherlock’s hips were a bit too low down he discovers, as their pricks meet when John bucks up. They groan simultaneously and Sherlock loses control momentarily, dropping his hips against Johns and thrusting rapidly.  
“F-Fuck! Yes! More! Sherlock!’ John is practically yelling, and it takes immense effort for Sherlock to peel himself from John’s body before his legs come to hold him down. Sherlock reaches to the bedside table and grabs the bottle of lube, hands shaking as he flicks open the cap and smears a generous portion on his fingers. He straddles John’s hips, but never makes any contact despite his body screaming to do so. Reaching underneath himself he begins working himself open, trying to avoid having his arm meet his cock, and sort of friction might send him over at this point.  
“Sherlock, uncuff me! Let me! Please” John thrashes and pulls on his cuffs as far as he can muster, eyeing Sherlock with such unfiltered hunger. God Sherlock wants that, he wants John all over him, inside him, claiming him. But he’s not quite done yet, and he knows he’ll regret not following his plan to the letter at a later time.  
Once he feels open and slick enough, and John’s pleading has turned into distraught moans, he begins slicking up John’s cock. John bucked into the pleasure lightly, his eyes screwed shut and his face that of someone who’s just about given up.  
“John, Look at me”  
He tossed his head and groaned before finally peeking up at Sherlock’s slender form and groaned his relief as his cock breached the first ring of Sherlock’s entrance.  
John’s hips rose to the occasion but so did Sherlocks, and he let John’s cock slip from his body, disappointed moans coming from both of them. He begins again, this time sinking slightly deeper, then again, letting it out of him completely. John was panting fighting his cuffs like never before, begging for Sherlock’s body. Through his own desperate body, a small amount of pride seeped through to know he got John like this. Finally, having had enough, ready to be filled and fucked, he slipped all the way down John’s cock, enjoying the feeling and rocking his hips slightly as he adjusts.  
“Sher-Sherlock” John pants, he looks so helpless, so innocent like this, like a horny rabbit instead of the in-heat wolf he really is. He takes the key from beside him and clicks the cuffs open. John rubs his wrists lightly and sighs in relief, and Sherlock can’t help but rock down in a teasing manner. John’s eyes meet his instantly, and that innocence is all but forgotten and John practically jumps Sherlock, pushing him onto his back towards the foot of the bed, and begins fucking into him without another thought. Sherlock only lets out a light laugh and grabs hold of John’s shoulder blades, wrapping his thighs tightly around his back, relishing in the delight and pleasure of it all.  
John’s grunts are loud and demanding after only a few thrusts, he flips Sherlock onto his stomach and brings his hips up to meet his harsh pounding.  
“Fuck! Fuck me!” He’s so close, he slips his hand underneath his body and grabs his cock, stroking fast almost ready to spill.  
“Sherlock-Beautiful--” John moans, the hand on his hip digs in, nails scraping skin, his other gripping the sheets and a couple more slams and he is coming, almost screaming as he fills Sherlock ass, still fucking hard past his ejaculation, his orgasm unrelenting. Sherlock's grateful, in those last hard thrusts he comes hard, tightening around John’s cock and feeling every inch of it sending sparks through his body. His cock twitches as the semen spills out and he collapses as John’s weight begins to bare into him.  
Sherlock wonders how long his orgasms usually last, he should start counting, cause this one seems to be lasting forever. Or perhaps it’s just the haze. He isn’t sure, what he does know is John’s softening cock still inside him still feels irresistibly pleasurable, and he can’t help but rock back and forth slowly, savouring every ounce of pleasure he can get. John, becoming oversensitive ruins his fantasy of staying like this forever by pulling out and flopping onto his back beside him.  
John groans as his muscles disapprove of the use. Face dug into the mattress, Sherlock’s only reply is a mirroring groan, which causes them both to giggle softly.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading


End file.
